


call it even

by forgeturself



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Bucky's Broken Dick, Derogatory Language, F/F, Female Bucky Barnes, Female Steve Rogers, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Hurt No Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, Internalized Misogyny, Knifeplay, Mild Gore, Penis Envy, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Rule 63, if she had one, no means yes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-10-12 18:45:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10497258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forgeturself/pseuds/forgeturself
Summary: “You won’t struggle, will ya? You owe that to your dead friend, don’t ’cha? Be a good girl and take it all like a man.”“Please don’t.” The realization of what Bucky is going to do to her comes crashing down like a whole building. “Please, come with me. I’ll keep you safe from Hydra. You don’t have to do what they tell you.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> there’s not enough fem slash stucky + fucked up Bucky is my favorite Bucky = this fic  
> First smut(?), dunno what I’m doing anyway.  
> Read endnotes for spoilers and more detailed trigger warnings

The first time Steve sees her it’s a bright day in the summer. The sun is high in the sky, rays of warmth covering the city, flowers reaching for the sky. A slight breeze carries cool wind through the rustling leaves of the trees in the park where Steve is jogging like every second day of the week.

She just paused a moment to switch to another song on her phone and then looked up intending to continue her run. The silver glint in one of the bigger trees instantly reminds her of the time Fury got shot in her apartment and the only thing alerting her to the shooter on the roof was the irritating metal glint of the arm catching the reflection of some stray street lights.

It’s nothing more than naïve and desperate hope that pushes her to check the tree and Steve’s only too aware of that. It’s what kept her going all the months in search for Bucky, through all the cities and streets that could just as well have been empty for Steve. Through the dirty motels and filthy alleys where nothing but rats and cockroaches were up to mischief. After Sam called it a night, in spite of all his patience of a saint too exhausted to move another step, Steve would go out, make another round through the streets. She doesn’t need as much sleep if any. Naïve and desperate.

And the tree is empty.

  


  


 

The second time it’s just Bucky’s reflection. Like a mirage, a dream conjured by Steve’s loneliness.

She’s out with Natasha for a cozy evening with coffee and cupcakes, already sitting together in a café made of more wood than concrete, more flowers than ash trays. On the other side of the street are more shops and restaurants, the sidewalks full of people, laughing, talking, getting together to enjoy the coming night.

As is slowly gets darker the world outside vanishes with the sun, leaving Steve to glance at her own reflection when she looks to the window. At her own reflection or that of Bucky sitting on the other side of the room, black hair tinting her face in shadow, hands nursing a cup.

She turns her head around so fast it stings in her neck and Natasha jolts out of her seat, hand on her hips where the gun is hidden, following her gaze to an empty table and a forgotten cup, a little splash of coffee spilled onto the desk beneath.

  


  


 

The third time Bucky’s just standing there. On the other side of a wide street filled with cars and trucks rushing through like they have to be somewhere. Right between all the other people walking past her, heads down, watching their phones, bumping her shoulders in a stream of indifference. Staring back at Steve like a ghost haunting her. Eyes rimmed red and black, cheeks hollow, skin pale. Looking more dead than alive. She vanishes with the crowd, was never there. A ghost granted a last visit before she goes on to the other side. The coin already paid.

  


  


 

Steve doesn’t see her again. The desperation she felt before is nothing compared to the full blown panic and horror feeding from her now. Stripping her bare of any sense or power as she runs day for day, night for night through the streets and parks and buildings where she last saw Bucky. There is no rest, her body will never rest. When she attempts to sleep after Sam made her promise to get some shut-eye, her limbs start to twitch and tremble with tension, her eyelids are sewn open, staring into the dark, seeing steel blue eyes and dark red lips smiling.

She doesn’t need sleep anyway, not when there’s still so much ground to cover, not when Bucky might be sick and alone and dying out there. She’s up and out of the house before she can contemplate her broken promise. She made another promise, years ago. A promise that means everything. Steve can’t be selfish, she must press on. Through the night, through the alleys, under the bridges, in the abandoned warehouses. Naïve and desperate.

And the city stays empty.

  


  


 

After a week Steve’s weak like any other human. Her eyes bloodshot, her cheeks pale and hollow, her short hair dull and straggly. When the time comes she’ll take the same boat as Bucky did, no point going anywhere else. Her feet won’t carry her far anyway, sore as they are, legs trembling with every step, giving out at last when she rounds another corner. Everything goes still and quiet except for the high pitched ringing in her ears. She’s asleep, she’s dreaming. Must be, because the figure in front of her died 69 years ago. Her best friend died 69 years ago, screaming her name and reaching for her hand as she fell to her death.

Steve’s smiling, her face hurting from the strain in the corners of her mouth, parched lips ripping as they are stretched wide. All exhaustion forgotten but still pinning her down on her knees, on her hands, on the ground, face in the dirt. Eyes bright with overflowing happiness since she got to see Bucky again one more time before the strings tearing her eyelids open finally snap and the world falls into darkness taking her with it.

  


  


 

Steve wakes up to a head filled with cotton, a slight sting in her belly and a rotten taste in her mouth. Tries to push the thin blanket away and sit up, straining helplessly against limbs made out of lead weighing her down. She opens her eyes to the blurry sight of a small room with a smaller window and a ceiling fan turning in slow motion. Bare walls, a closed door and a blank floor. No one’s there, nothing can be heard but a steady stream of cars passing by outside.

“Hello?” She calls with a broken voice and tries for a second time to get up. As the door is opened she collapses again, the sight leaving her yet again breathless.

Grey blue eyes watching her every move as she falls back into the pillow.

“Bucky?” It’s her, it’s her curved lip, her cut chin, her high cheekbones, her dark hair framing the familiar face.

“Steve.” She only says and smirks, crossing her arms in front of her chest, still standing in the door, keeping her distance. “How are you feeling?”

If there ever was a question of no importance it’s this one. Steve just stretches one arm in her direction, hoping Bucky will follow the request and the invitation.

Bucky’s gaze drops to her hand, flickers back to sweep over her whole body until it stops again at her face. She’s frowning now, arms loose at her sides but her hands clenched to fists. “How are you feeling, Steve?” This time her voice is much colder, nearly toneless.

“I saw you.” Steve croaks. “I saw you in the street and in the coffee shop and, and in the park. You were there. You were everywhere.”

Finally Bucky steps closer, flesh hand twitching as if she’s thinking about touching her. “You searched for me.”

“Yes, Buck, everywhere.” Steve agrees with a smile as bright as she can manage.

Bucky bares her teeth in a snarl. “You think you know me?” She asks with unmistakable anger.

Steve still smiles as the corners of her eyes fill with tears. “You know me, too.”

“Now, why would you think that?” She singsongs, face suddenly grinning, mocking her.

“But you said-“

“You’re Captain fucking America, of course I know your stupid name. What kind of idiot are you?”

Bucky’s deprecating voice flows like ice water though Steve’s veins stunning her as she looks up to her friend with wide eyes.

“How are you feeling, Steeeve? Anything _unusual_?” She still wants to know mockingly, gaze flickering down Steve’s body, resting at her hip for a moment, the tip of her tongue darting out to wet her lips.

Steve tries and fails to read her, follows her gaze with slight irritation until she can’t see it but _feel_ it. There’s something distressingly hard inside her, pushed in between her legs where the mattress is wet under the cheeks of her ass. She keens in shock and moves a hand downwards to get rid of whatever is there only to be suddenly stopped by the unbreakable grip of a metal hand and words spoken with a silky voice. “You’re not allowed to do that, Steve. Just tell me how you feel.”

Her friend is so close now but it only sends a cold shiver down Steve’s spine. “Please let me go.”

A hand grips her hair, short as it may be, grips it and rips her head backwards, straining her neck until it hurts. Steve can only stare at her, breathing heavy, straining against her hands, listening to Bucky’s voice getting even lower, whispering, lips nearly touching the shell of her ear. “I’ll tell you how it feels. It’s so thick it’s stretching you wide, a slight pain the price for the pleasure. The warm tingling deep inside you, prodding at your most raw areas. The pressure down there so perfect it’s outright filthy. It fills you up, makes you whole. Listen to me” She tears at her hair, jerks her head around to assure Steve’s full attention. “Filling your cunt is everything it takes to make you whole.”

“Bucky…” Is the only word Steve can push over her lips while she doubles her effort to break her friend’s grip. It has the opposite effect. With a swift motion Bucky is straddling her hips, pinning her hands over her head and leaning down to be closer to her face as she grins.

“You won’t struggle, will ya? You owe that to your dead friend, don’t ’cha? Be a good girl and take it all like a man.”

“Please don’t.” The realization of what Bucky is going to do to her comes crashing down like a whole building. “Please, come with me. I’ll keep you safe from Hydra. You don’t have to do what they tell you.”

“Of course you would, sweetness. Of course you would.” She agrees, nothing but patronizing, letting her nose bop against hers, followed by a quick lick of her tongue. Laughing as Steve instantly turns her head away. “Oh, the things I will do to you.” Her pupils are blown wide, full of dark hunger. “Make you beg and squeal. Gonna make you feel so good, you’ll forget your own name.” She moves her hands fast, so that she can keep Steve pinned down with just her metal hand, the other on sliding down over Steve’s head, neck and shoulder until it rests on her side gently stroking her through the blanket.

Steve gasps for breath, being so vulnerable, being touched against her will. “Please, Buck, stop. I can protect you. Like you protected me in the past.”

“Look at you.” Buck sits up to have clear look at her face. “America’s glorified whore lying. You’re so weak, so pathetic you can’t even defend yourself. Or…” And her eyebrows rise up in glee. “Or you want this. You’re already so wet for me. You want this, you little slut.”

“No! Stop!”

But Bucky just laughs at Steve’s horrified voice and panicked struggling, holding her with ease in her iron grip. When Steve moves her legs to throw her friend off, she starts, skin paling at the feeling of the hard thing shifting inside her, but also sticking _out_ of her, scratching the soft skin of her inner thighs. It makes her hesitate only for a moment, but it’s enough for Bucky to reach behind herself and grope between Steve’s legs, jolting the thing around, pushing it deeper, scraping its tip over her insides. “Feels good, right?” Bucky asks while she keeps playing with her hand between Steve’s legs, getting bolder and more brutal with every move. “I was told it’s supposed to feel very good.”

“It hurts, Buck. Please, stop.” She whimpers and claws at the metal hand to let her go.

Bucky pauses and looks down at her with wide eyes. “That’s what I said, too.” But her bewilderment only lasts for a moment before she takes her hand away to strip the blanket half away, leaving Steve’s naked chest uncovered. “They just laughed at me and called me a liar. Are you lying to me again, Steve?”

“No, Buck, I’m telling you nothing but the truth. It hurts and I want you to stop right now.” It’s Steve last, desperate try to reason with her friend. Though to be honest, if she had any strength she would have long broken away with sheer force. Bucky want’s this as little as she does. It’s all Hydra’s fault for messing up her friend.

Said messed up friend is now stroking gently over Steve’s breasts, circling her nipple in a slow, mesmerized motion. “I'm sorry, Steve, I don't quite know how to do this. Neither the Russians nor Hydra are big on this homosexuality thing.” She palms her breast with curiosity like she’s just experimenting. “They say it’s destructive, dysfunctional behavior.” Her laugh is fake and self-deprecating. “Destructive and dysfunctional. Sounds exactly like me, doesn't it?”

“Buck, you don’t have to do this.”

“Oh, but I do. I want you to hurt like I did.” She freezes, shocked by her own words. “No, it doesn’t hurt. It never hurts, Stevie, right? You’re wet and flushed and eager. You want this.”

“No, it really just hurts. Neither one of us wants any of this.” Steve takes care to hold eye contact to convey her sincerity.

Her friend stares blankly back at her like she spoke another language all together and slowly takes her hand away to reach behind her again. This time she shoves the blanket away with impatience and rubs her finger in a harsh motion over her vagina, making Steve gasp at the torturing sensation. It just spurns Bucky on further, digging her finger between the folds and aiming for the clitoris. When she finds it she presses down, circles it, scratches over it without any gentleness. “The men used to do this to me.” She narrates as she crooks her fingers, nails catching on the skin. “But it doesn't feel good, right?” She folds in on herself, bowing down to rest her head on Steve’s chest like she searches for comfort Steve can’t possibly give her as she is writhing underneath, trying to lessen the excruciating assault on her clit. “When I didn't moan, they hit me, telling me I was ungrateful, telling me that this feels good and I should show them some appreciation.” Suddenly her hand is gone and touching Steve’s chin, smearing clumsily over her skin with sticky, wet fingers until they find her lips. Tugging them brusquely out of the way to rub her fingertips over Steve’s clenched teeth. She looks at her in honest confusion and takes her hand away to lick her fingers clean herself. Frowning even more she moves up place at small kiss to the corner of Steve’s mouth, her lips cold but soft like silk, moving further along, opening up, getting bolder though Steve never reciprocates. Both their eyes open, watching each other. Steve’s eyes full of hurt, Bucky’s full of inappropriate admiration. Kiss for kiss she trails over her lips, her cheeks to her ear where she first licks shyly over the shell then lets her tongue fully explore, darting wet and hot inside. When Steve suppresses a soft moan and jolts her head away, Bucky just bites down hard on her ear, pain flaring up as her teeth rip over the sensitive skin making Steve groan in discomfort. Her friend lets go with a small laugh. "Some of them liked it when I did that.” She seizes Steve’s jaw and forces her head back to look at her. “Tell me how it feels.” Her voice is nearly pleading. “I wouldn’t know.”

“Stop, Buck, just… stop.” Steve is so irritated and frustrated, nothing she says is getting through to Bucky. She doesn’t know what to do anymore.

“You want me to stop?”

Steve watches her friend, calculating why she asks that question now. “Yes. I want you to stop.” Her words as clear and broad as possible.

Bucky licks her lips, tampering down a smile. “Show me.” She just says and sits up, flexing her metal fingers around Steve’s wrists in a taunt.

And Steve does, puts every ounce of strength her exhausted body has left into breaking Bucky’s grip. She feels her face flush at the effort, sweat glistening on her skin, muscles start to tremble as her breath grows ragged and heavy. With a scream she pushes against the metal with everything she has, but nothing gives, Bucky just smiles wider and wider with every second Steve writhes under her.

“You think the serum made you strong so you could finally defend the weak and punch the bullies?” She mocks her with a completely chilled voice. “Wrong, Stevie, it just made you a better fuck. That's really all you're good for. You're a woman after all.” She crudely pats Steve’s cheek and swings a leg over her hips to stand up, taking the blanket with her.

Smothering the hope Steve feels for a second when she circles the bed to crawl over the mattress, forcefully pushing Steve’s legs aside and slotting herself between them. Instantly Steve uses her new leverage to push herself up and away but Bucky lazily puts her metal hand on her hips and holds her down without any visible effort. With the other hand she plays with the thing between Steve’s legs, pulls it out inch by inch, revealing a knife. “I wish I had a dick I could stick into you.” She smirks at her words and pauses to lick over the glistening hilt. “I'd fill you up so good. Use your cunt like it was meant to be used. Be the strong, guiding hand every woman needs in her life.” She locks her eyes with Steve. By now they are full blown dark pupils with only a sliver of blue steel left, clearly Bucky’s getting off on the whole ordeal. “This is so much better, though.” She takes the knife by the blade and crawls towards Steve’s face to straddle her again. Metal hand tugging away her lips to reveal clenched teeth yet again. “Open up or I’ll smash your fucking perfect teeth.” She threatens as she lifts the knife high to be able to strike out in a powerful arc. “They grow back, don’t worry.” She adds laughing delighted at Steve’s horrified face. “It’ll just hurt. A lot.”

Steve feels the blood leaving her face, her whole body growing even colder as she imagines her teeth getting smashed, as she imagines _Bucky’s_ teeth getting smashed. Stunned by the brutal images she opens her mouth, giving Bucky access to push the hilt of the knife inside. Soon she choking on the violent intrusion, but as she tries to wrench her head away, cold fingers clench around her throat and force her to stay still, gagging and suffocating around the alien material, spit flowing over her chin as she struggles. Her sight of Bucky turns blurry through a haze of tears streaming from her eyes and when she sees Bucky’s smirk growing wider she knows there is more abuse waiting for her. By now she can only breathe through her nose, her hands flaying feeble at the metal arm, surprised as her friend lets go, horrified, as the metal palm closes over her eyes and fingers hold her nose shut. She can’t see, she can’t breathe, everything she feels is the hilt being forced even deeper into her mouth, feeling the sharp side of the blade catching at the corner her mouth. But every feeling slowly fades away to nothing as her throat clenches uselessly around the knife again and again until she’s gone.

When she wakes up again she feels nothing but pain pounding in her head. Her mouth tastes strongly of copper and bile and she turns her head not a second to late before she retches and a disgusting flush of red and yellow fluids spew over her lips, burning like acid at the cut in the corner of her mouth. After it’s over she sluggishly reorients herself only to notice Bucky’s between her legs again, forcing them wide, grinning like a cat that got the canary as she fucks Steve with the cold fingers of her metal arm. “Look at your hole, taking my fingers so good, so needy. So wet for me. They told me you want it really bad if you're that wet already.”

Steve feels like she could faint again at any moment. Her thoughts don’t connect anymore, everything’s cold and grey. The feeling down between her legs far away and dull becoming more intense with every moment she’s awake.

“I don't feel much with the metal. Please tell me, if I hurt you, please show me when it hurts. Wanna see your face all screwed up in pain.”

Fresh tears are streaming down her cheeks as sobs escape her raw throat. It hurts a lot, metal plates catching at her raw skin, tearing it open with every pull of Bucky’s fingers. She can’t suppress a long whimper, threshing her head around to add to the dizziness in the hope she’ll just pass out again.

“That’s right. Such a good girl you are.”

There’s something warm at her vagina now, maybe even hot, if Steve could feel much anymore. She loses herself in the rhythm of being touched. Chases it, bucking up her hips. Even if it’s far away it’s still the only sensation she has left beside the searing pain.

“You taste so good, Stevie, oooh, sweetheart, you’re bleeding…” Bucky sounds happy, groaning against the tender skin of her thighs.

Steve drifts off into freezing darkness, letting herself being swept away. She doesn’t want to be here. Doesn’t want it to be Bucky who violates her. Not Bucky, the best friend she ever had. Bucky who went through the worst hell possible. This must be a walk in the park for her, even if she was at the receiving end.

Warm hands caress her face, waking her gently, reintroducing her to a world of pain.

“You're so useless, couldn’t stop Hydra in 1945 or in 2014. Just give up, Stevie. Even with all your strength and cleverness you're still worthless. Nobody needs you, you just make everything worse.” Bucky’s softest voice whispers into her ringing ears.

She feels her friend’s warm tongue lapping over her face, licking at the wound, licking over her chin, tasting her blood and bile. Moaning in pleasure as she kisses her with all the gentleness of a lover. Little cat licks over her lips, a hand stroking through her short hair, the other one holding Steve’s, intertwining their fingers. If Steve didn’t know better she’d think Bucky was trying to soothe away the pain.

“I’m sorry, Buck. I’m so sorry they did this to you.”

Her friend isn’t laughing anymore, her eyes only sad if not dead. She reaches out with one hand to gently shut Steve’s eyes, steadily building up pressure, pressing her head into the mattress.

“69 years of this and we'll call it even, okay?”

  


  


 

Through the door Steve can hear muffled voices. At first she can’t make out everything until some clarity returns to her.

“I want her, Rumlow, I want her to be mine.”

“You can’t. The Avengers will come to save her. We wouldn’t even be able to outrun them.”

“I’ll take care of them. I’ll kill them all.”

“Why would you even want her? She’s clearly unaffected by you. She doesn’t care.”

“I want to violate her until she breaks.”

“I’m beginning to wonder if she’ll ever break with that massively stubborn streak of hers.”

“Yeah, she’ll probably never break. That means she wants me to keep her, make her mine. Forever to do with as I please.”

“Yes, of course, that’s exactly what she wants. Good thinking, Asset.”

**Author's Note:**

> Bucky was raped a lot in her time with Hydra and told to feel good about it, told her no means yes. Now when she’s ordered to break Steve through rape she’s under the illusion she’ll make Steve feel good.
> 
> It was in my head, now it’s in yours


End file.
